Ashes of Dreams We Let Die
by ButItsBetterIfItsBrucas
Summary: Set after It Gets Worst At Night. Your whole life has led up to this point. The moment you make the final decision.We all make hard choices.This is yours.But looking into those hazel green eyes, you realize it isnt really such a hard decision after all. B
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- I do not own One Tree Hill or its characters**

Ashes of Dreams We Let Die-

"Brooke?" Your voice is angry. Accusing. Even though you know it shouldn't be.

"Lucas," she sighs, and just the thought that she's sighing because she doesn't want you there fuels your anger. She steps out of the tour bus and straightens her coat, brushes her hair from her face and tries to move past you. Her progress is hindered however by the fact that you can't move. You find yourself frozen by the thought of her with Chris Keller…again.

"Excuse me," she snaps, trying to push her way past you. Only yesterday things had been different between the two of you. She had been sleeping in your bed for Christ's sake, but now it's all changed. It changed the moment Skills opened the door and the light in your Pretty Girls eyes dimmed a little more. She wasn't supposed to see that. A small part of you asks, why not? Peyton's your girlfriend. Why shouldn't you be with her in more than just an emotional sense? And another part of you knows the answer. Because even the whole time you were convincing yourself that Peyton was the girl for you, Brooke had your heart and body. You realize that doesn't make any logical sense but it does to you. Even if Peyton is your girlfriend, you still belonged to Brooke because she had claimed you in a way Peyton hadn't.

Well now she has and you feel your last ties to Brooke slipping slowly away.

"Can I help you?" she asks her voice pure ice and fire. All enough to make you melt.

"Have a nice time with Keller?" Your voice is harsh, your words hard. Just the thought of her with someone else is enough to drive you over the edge but the fact that its Chris-fucking-Keller is driving you insane.

"Is that really any of your business?" Brooke's eyes are cold. Her words steel. Of course it's not your business. You gave up all rights to ask her these questions ages ago but there's just something about her that keeps pulling you back. You know it's not your business but you don't care anymore.

None of it really matters. It doesn't matter that you cheated on her with her best friend or that you didn't fight for her when she needed you. It doesn't matter that you got together with her best friend after she broke up with you because she said it was okay with her. It doesn't matter that Peyton is still up in the hotel room waiting for you or that if she looked out the window right now and into your eyes as you looked at your ex-girlfriend, she would see something that you are severely lacking when you look into hers.

Because that's the truth isn't it? When you look into her eyes, when you kiss her and made love to her, the whole time you were really just trying to forget what you had lost. And now that the one person in your life you can't really stand to loose and yet already have is standing in front of you, everything comes crashing down.

Peyton is beautiful. Nice, sweet, caring, she understands so much about you and yet so little at the same time. She needs you. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear and reminds you of what a great person you are. She's your soul mate.

But if that's true then why do you shiver at the mere mention of Brooke's name? Why does every flash of dark hair at school, or every whiff of that vanilla perfume she wears send your mind into overdrive without a second thought to whatever else your doing? She doesn't remind you of what a great person you are. She makes you want to be a better person.

And then again, if you aren't lying about all that, why are you with Peyton? Sometimes you feel like it's out of guilt. She needs someone and she loves you. And if Brooke doesn't love you then, why not? Of course you love Peyton. You'd do anything for her. You know that. She knows that. And you guess Brooke knows that too. It's probably the real reason she broke up with you. But what Brooke doesn't really understand about you, is that you could give Peyton the world—you could give her everything she could ever ask for—except your heart. Because what Brooke doesn't get, is that she still has it. The one thing Peyton really wants from you, you can't give her because you gave it to the brown eyed beauty standing in front of you long ago. Peyton's one of your best friends and you love her. But you realize now it's just not the right kind of love.

But how can you tell her that? How can you tell either of them that? Honestly, if Brooke wasn't so mad at you, you know she'd be able to tell on her own. She always had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking. Now she's to pissed to care. And Peyton? Well you don't really think she can tell. Sure she loves you, but nobody can read you quite as well as Brooke can. And you guess it's a good think that Peyton cant see the way your eyes soften every time you look at her best friend or how when she just walks into a room, you can sense her presence and you always turn around to check and make sure its her even though you already know it is. Sometimes Peyton can sneak up on you and surprise you but with Brooke, you always knew she was there. You could feel her. Of course every time she tried to sneak up on you you'd pretend to be surprised but even then she'd know you were acting and she'd go into an adorable pout that you would have to kiss away immediately so you could see her smile again.

And now that you're going out with Peyton, you've tried to get rid of your Brooke-radar but it just won't seem to go away. The only comforting thought is that you suspect Brooke has one too. You can see it in the small twitch of the corner of her lip when she breezes past you in the hallway pretending to not notice you. You can tell when you walk into a room and she stops in the middle of a conversation and tilts her head to the side so she can see the door you just entered from out of the corner of her eye before going back to her conversation. Peyton cant sense you like Brooke does. Sometimes you try and sneak up behind her just to check and see. Her surprise isn't false. Its real and genuine and even when she squeals and giggles you feel a small sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

But even that sinking feeling is nothing compared to the gut wrenching feeling in your stomach as you look at Brooke now.

"Brooke," you don't even know what you want to say to her. You're angry, you know that. How she could be so immature to sleep with Chris _again_? Didn't she see how bad it ended last time? "What were you thinking?!"

"Like you really care," she snaps, brushing past you now, not commenting as you stumble back a little at her touch.

"Of _course_ I care!" Oops. You hadn't meant to say that. She stops mid step and turns to face you now, her eyes ablaze with fury.

"Don't you dare. Don't you _dare_ act like I still matter to you. You have made it perfectly clear who really matters to you so why don't you just go back to your perfect blonde goddess and do whatever it was the two of you were doing before I so rudely interrupted you."

"Of course you still matter to me Brooke!" You don't even know why you're protesting anymore. You're not even really sure what you're protesting to. All you know is that she's standing there in her long coat looking cold and angry and more beautiful then you've ever seen her and if yelling at her is the only way you can get her to talk to you, then so be it. "God, you don't even know how much I miss you! You don't know—"

"Stop Lucas," she holds up a shaking hand and closes her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "You should go back to Peyton."

"Will you go back to Chris?" Your voice is low and dangerous again. Brooke crosses her arms in front of her and glares at you.

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes Brooke, yes it does matter!" You know this shouldn't bother you as much as it does, but somehow keeping Brooke from walking back into that tour bus is the most important thing you can think of doing right now. You're not even sure that she was planning on going back in, but you need to make sure that she doesn't. You're not sure if you can handle the thought of her and Chris together again. It nearly killed you last time and now that you have a girlfriend, you don't even have a real reason to be feeling a sharp pang in your heart and a coppery tang in the back of your throat.

"Listen to me Lucas," her voice is a hiss and she leans forward so you can hear her more clearly. "You are going to go back to Peyton. You are going to hold her and kiss her and tell her—" Brooke seems to choke on her words for a moment but then she regains her footing and continues. "And you are going to tell her that you love her, and you are going to leave me the hell alone, okay? What I do with Chris, what I do with _anyone_, is _none_ of your business, are we clear? We are not together. We can't be friends. We don't work as friends. And I don't not need your annoying ass giving me the third degree every time you decide you want something from me. You chose Peyton over me. You don't get to ask me questions and look at me like that. I am not yours anymore and you better pull your act together before Peyton comes down here and I have to watch your disgusting display of affection for each other because god knows I love Peyton but--" her voice breaks even though her eyes stay angry and you are about to cut in when she seems to decide she needs to finish. "I can't look at you two together."

"Why not, huh Brooke? Just tell me that and I'll leave you alone. Why can't you look at us together?" It isn't fair that she's blaming this all on you. She shouldn't have told you to go after Peyton if she was going to be such a bitch about it.

"Just stop it Lucas!" she turns around and you can tell she's about to walk away so you grab her arm and spin her around, pinning her up against the bus so she can get away.

"Just tell me Brooke! Why can't you look at us together?!"

She's fighting against you, struggling to get away but you hold her arms with both hands and keep her body pressed against yours to prevent her escape. Her hair is in her face and she shakes her head back defiantly while trying to get any leverage over you that she can.

"Brooke!" Your voice is still raised. Angry. Suddenly she seems to loose all fight in her and her body sags against yours.

"Brooke," softer this time.

"Because," her voice is quiet. You wait for her to finish, dipping your head to get closer to her face because you're afraid you'll miss whatever it is she has to say. "Because I love you."

This shocks you into stumbling away from her and she takes the chance to make her getaway. You had wanted it. You had needed it. But you hadn't expected her to give up so easily.

Brooke can walk faster in those high heels then anyone you have ever met and you have to run to catch up with her. By the time she's reached the gazebo you still haven't had enough time to figure out what you're going to say to her, but you brush your worries away and grab her hand, spinning her around once more.

"Brooke."

"Don't say anything Lucas," she sighs. "I don't want to hear it."

"Brooke just listen—"

"Whatever it is Luke, it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore." She brushes you away and starts to walk again, her heels clacking on the pavement. You take quick strides until you are at her side again and you grab her arms, staring down into her eyes and refusing to let her look away.

Your whole life has led up to this point. This is really it. It's the moment you make the final decision. Brooke or Peyton. We all have to make the hard choices in life. This is yours. What's it gonna be?

But then, looking into those honey brown eyes that are staring at you spitefully and yet unable to hide the tears threatening to appear, you know that it isn't actually a hard decision after all.

"I love you too…Pretty girl."

Her eyes widen and her mouth opens in a small O.

"Lucas," she breaths, but you cut her off in the best way you can think of. With a kiss.

Her mouth is warm and soft and exactly how you remember it and you can't help but think that you were insane for ever letting her go. Right when you're about to deepen the kiss, Brooke pulls away and you look at her in confusion.

"No," she shakes her head and a few tears actually manage to make their way out of her eyes and trail slowly down her cheeks. Your heart breaks at the sight. "I won't be that girl." She shakes her head again and pulls slightly away from you, reaching up to wipe the tears off her face. "I won't be Peyton."

"Brooke, no, don't worry, I'll talk to Peyton—we can work this out, I promise, okay? You aren't her, you aren't—"

"No," Brooke repeats, pushing away from you and now that she isn't quite standing in your shadow you can see how red her eyes are and how her makeup is smudged and running. And yet she still looks perfect. "I am not going to do that to Peyton."

Oh no, you can't let this happen again. You can't loose her. She's slowly regaining her composure, straightening her back, smoothing her hair away from her face; the warmth in her eyes little by little evaporates. Shit. Her walls are going up and you curse them in your mind. She takes a step away from you. Then another. They start off shaky and she wobbles on her heels for a few seconds before she regains her balance and the farther she moves from you the steadier she gets. She's backing away from you, and its starting to scare you how quickly she transitions from the Brooke who is innocent and vulnerable to the Queen Bitch who doesn't let anything past her guard.

"Please, Brooke, please—" your voice is shaky now. Your throat closes up and you choke on your tears. "Brooke, baby, don't do this, come on. I lov—"

"Stop." Her voice is steady and her eyes are cold again. "You got your chance. You gave me up. You don't get to have my body, and sure as hell not my heart."

Then she flashes you a smile. Cold. Sarcastic. Spiteful. And she turns and the girl with the broken eyes and fractured heart leaves you standing in the frigid night air with the lingering taste of her lips on your mouth and the haunting sight of those fucking dimples engraved in your mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Regret is a funny thing. It always hits you at the most unexpected of times. Guilt has a tendency to tag along with it.

"Where were you?" Peyton asks, her blonde curls tousled in a way you know you should find irresistible yet can't seem to find the heart to. You shouldn't lie. You don't want to. You know it'll just get you in even more trouble then you're in already, but something makes the words about Brooke stop and something else comes out instead.

"I went for a walk." Well, it's not really a lie. You just left you a bit.

"I missed you," her smile is shy. Timid. Brooke is never shy. You know it's a bad sign that everything about Peyton is starting to remind you of Brooke but you figure at this point, you've already passed the spot of no return. You just can't seem to stop. Standing in front of Peyton however, you realize that you never really stopped. Every time you pass that store in the mall your eyes automatically go to the display of Brooke's clothes and a wave of pride washes through you. Every time you see a squirrel you think of her. If there's ever a heat lighting storm your first thoughts are if she went outside to watch it and if she's still okay. It's like a reflex. Anything and everything you see you manage to find a way to connect it to the brunette best friend of your girlfriend.

"Yeah, I…I missed you too."

"Are you okay?" she steps forward worriedly and rests a cool hand on your forehead. "You don't look so hot."

No, _really_? You want to snap at her. But you don't. It's Peyton, and however frustrated with Brooke you are, it's not okay for you to take it out on her.

"I think I might just need some rest. Stress is just getting to me is all..." if only that were really the problem.

"Well how do you feel?"

How do you feel. _How do you feel. _You feel like the world you used to know has been torn out from under your feet and ripped to shreds then your heart was shattered into a million pieces in your chest and left there so the sharp edges could cut and tear until there was nothing left but a burning want—need to hold Brooke Davis in your arms and kiss her until the whole world made sense again and you could finally understand what it _really_ is your feeling.

"Just tired."

"Poor baby," Peyton tilts her head to the side and pulls you down on the bed, curling against your chest. "But it'll be okay. We can heal each other now."

You feel restless in her arms. Caught in a moment in time you would do anything to get out of. Everything feels so forced and you can't quite figure out where it all went wrong. Well that's a lie. You know exactly where it went wrong. The first time you ever kissed Peyton behind Brooke's back. Because back then, you had thought it was right. You had believed that you were in love with Peyton and if hurting Brooke was the consequence of being with her, you were willing to do it. And now you were caught in the same trap only the roles were reversed. The only difference was that Brooke wasn't giving in to you. Sure, she had confessed her feelings—you feel a small jump of joy in the pit of your stomach at this thought and Peyton catches the small smile that lights up your face.

"Is this better?"

You turn to look at her. Peyton. Blonde curls cascading down her face in elegant twirls, wide doe eyes open in an innocent loving gaze. This isn't better. This is worse if anything else. Because now you're hurting them both.

"I think a little fresh air might help." Peyton's face falls. You look down. "Oh no, this is great, it's just…I really need a breath. Just, some space you know? This is all a lot at the moment and—"

"It's okay Lucas, I get it."

You look back up at her. "You do?"

"Yeah, Lucas," she laughs. "It's not like you're doing anything bad out there. And…" she pauses and you urge her on with your eyes. "Brooke did that whole insecurity thing with your relationship and I don't want to do it. I trust you Lucas, okay? And I know that I love you, and I know that you love me, and I believe that everything will work out for the best for us!" she smiles brightly at you and you try your best to smile back.

Somehow you know that's what's best for you is Brooke. But you don't think Peyton will understand that so you untangle yourself gently from her and step away.

"I'll be back," you tell her, turning towards the door.

"I know," she says smiling softly in the gentle lamplight. "You always come back for me."

It's true, you think as you step out of the room. You always went back to Peyton. She was the safest choice. If you were with her you knew that you wouldn't run the risk of really getting your heart broken again. At least that's what you thought. But seeing Brooke without _being_ with her was breaking your heart anyway. You groan in frustration and look out at the night. It looks like it might rain. You think you would welcome the wet cool drops on your skin but they don't seem to want to fall just yet. They simply hang suspended in the sky…waiting. Waiting for what?

You cast your eyes out at the parking lot and they eventually make their way over to the gazebo. Your breath catches. She's there.

Without stopping to let yourself think about it any longer you make your way to her, your shoes making soft scuffing noises on the pavement as you go. It surprises you when she doesn't look up when you approach.

"Brooke," you rub the back of your neck and look down at your shoes. She finally turns her precious little face up to look at you.

"I thought we finished this conversation Lucas."

But it doesn't feel like you've even had it yet. Her voice is cold and hard again and you're back to square one. Only you've gotten past the anger and moved onto despair.

"Brooke, I love you."

She stands up and shakes her head. "No you don't Lucas. You think you do, but you really don't."

You frown and she turns away from you. "How do you know what I want?"

"You only want what you can't have," she sighs, turning to look at you, "You want me because now you finally got Peyton. But guess what—" you guess it's a rhetorical question because she doesn't wait for you to answer. "You can't have me." She turns away from you again and your hand automatically reaches out to grab her arm.

"You love me."

"I love Peyton too."

"How can you just give up on us like this? You wanted me to fight for you Brooke, well I'm fighting. And I need you to work with me here. We need to figure something out. We can work this out. We need to try, I can't just let you go again—"

"Don't you understand Lucas?" You know your words have affected her because her hand trembles as she reaches out to push past you. "You already have."

"I love you Brooke." You think that maybe you can break her down slowly until she's ready to talk with you again. You know you need to find a way to work this all out.

"Shut up." Her words are daggers, aimed at your heart and guaranteed to hit the target.

"I love you."

"Just leave me alone Lucas."

"Come on Brooke, you know I can't do that." She steps out of the gazebo and you follow her. You feel something on your cheek. You wonder suddenly if you're crying but then you look up and realize the rain has finally started to fall. "We need to talk about this.

"We don't need to talk about anything." The rain quickens.

Rain drip drops slowly, tantalizingly down from the sky. Land's on her cheek. She won't cry. Her eyes aren't sad. They're strong and hard and you know immediately that there's no need to try and decipher the rain from the tears because there are none. "What happened between us, Brooke we—"

"It was nothing. Nothing happened between us Lucas."

"Stop lying! Tell me the truth Brooke, why are you doing this?"

"Why am I doing this?! You have no idea what it felt like when you cheated on me with Peyton! I couldn't…breath…for the longest time, I was so lost, so confused, so…hurt. I would never do that to anyone, let alone my best friend."

"But Brooke, you can't just deny what happened between us!" It's wrong. It's all so wrong you feel like screaming, but nothing else comes out. Your throat is sore and your eyes are tired and your heart is hollow. Only she lights it with that fire you so desperately need to warm your soul. "Brooke—"

"You can't fix me!" She screams it, her eyes are wide now, and you think you see tears swimming in them and she blinks them away but suddenly your not so confident that it's really just the rain coursing down her cheeks.

"What?" Her words aren't quite making any sense to you and you wonder briefly if it's because you never really could concentrate in her company or if she really isn't making sense.

"You were always saving Peyton! The whole time we were dating you were always off rescuing her and I never knew why! I always thought something was wrong with me because you never wanted to save me, but I've finally figured it all out." She laughs and it's bitter and haunting and you shiver at the sound of it. Thunder cracks in the sky but she doesn't even flinch. The flash of light brightens her face for just a second and in that small moment you think you see the Brooke Davis you used to know standing in the rain after you claimed your love for her, a small smile curving the corners of those perfect lips as she leans forward to kiss you—but then the lightning is gone, the rain pours down harder, and you aren't sure you saw her at all. "You, Lucas Scott, have a hero complex."

Your brow furrows and you frown at her, frustrated she's being so stubborn about all of this. "Brooke, come on, just listen to me—"

"Shut up!" She's screaming again, and as she reaches up to shove her hair out of her face you see her take a shuddering breath and in that single moment you're almost positive you can tell every single drop of rain apart from her tears. "I get it Lucas! You needed to save Dan from the dealership fire and Peyton from the school lockdown, but you can't save me!"

"Brooke, come on, just come with me, we should get out of the rain then I can help you—"

"You can't save me Lucas! You can't fix me! I'm not broken!" And then she takes another long breath, chokes on it, her body bends a little and the rain continues to pound down. "You can't—" she stops again and this time you hear the sob. It tears at your heart in ways you never thought possible and you move towards her, hands extended to help steady her. She stumbles away from you and breaths in gasping heaves. "I don't need you Lucas Scott, I don't—" Beautiful, broken Brooke. Her walls collapse before your unbelieving eyes and she falls, graceful even in all her sorrow, to the ground. Her dress is getting muddy and her whole body is drenched from the rain but she shows no sign of knowing it. You wonder if she has become immune to the cold just like she's become immune to you. Like a little girl who tried to face her own nightmares and lost, she trembles and cries on the dirty ground, her hair is in tangles, her hands shake, and your heart breaks. "I don't want to be her. I won't be Peyton, I can't, I can't do this," her voice breaks and her head buries itself in her hands.

"Brooke," you whisper it, tears spring into your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. You fight with everything you have in you against the tears threatening to emerge from your already red eyes.

Beautiful proud Brooke. Loved for who she is by everyone and hated by herself for who she is not. All she see's in herself is her faults where you—who knows that she is flawed—find her perfect. A devil disguised in the angel's body. She was the devil who threatened to steal your humanity. But then again, she had already taken it. She has completely captured you and now refuses you. Because of her loyalty. Because she isn't willing to let down the ones she loves. Although she seems unafraid of letting you down.

You bend down, getting your pants dirtied and soiled but you hardly notice. Brooke is still taking gasping sobs, trying with all her might to stop her crying. Her breath shudders and her body shakes and as you move to wrap your arms around her she pulls away and suddenly is on her feet. You look up only to find she isn't alone. Her arms are wrapped firmly around Mouth, her face buried in his neck, her body trembling as he supports her weight.

The look he sends you is one you know you will never forget. Without a word he turns from you and takes Brooke away. Then you return to your room. You ignore Peyton's worried questions and let yourself fall onto the bed where you are left to play over the nights events in your mind until you can't stand the thought of looking in the mirror the next morning. You know you won't like the man staring back at you. You hate yourself for hurting Peyton like this. You hate yourself for making Mouth look at you like that. But above everything else, you hate yourself for making her cry.

The next day you awake with a splitting headache and the same image of Brooke walking away from you the night before engraved on the insides of your eyelids so that you can see it every time you close your eyes.

Everyone acts normal when you go out to leave. Brooke doesn't say anything to you on the whole ride home. Mouth steers clear of you but you can see that he's keeping a close eye on both you and Brooke. Even when you return home things aren't the same. She talks to you when she needs to, when she wants to keep up appearances that everything is okay in order to protect Peyton, but other wise she stays away from you. There is no affair. There are no secret meetings or sneaking around behind Peyton's back. You see in her eyes that Brooke is determined to protect Peyton what she herself had gone through.

Sometimes you find yourself wondering at how it all happened. At why she chose you in the first place. What a pair you make. The seemingly loving boyfriend and the unwilling temptress. Separated by everything and brought together by…by what? You don't even know. You don't even assume that she does. She seems to know everything else though. She always knew just where to touch you to make your legs collapse from under you and your mouth unwillingly open to let slip a moan of pure sin and pleasure.

Pure. When you first met her that was one of the first words that came to mind. Pure and beautiful. You know it's a strange word to use to describe a person like Brooke, and you know that she is far from pure, but the first time you met her you found yourself momentarily frozen, stunned, at the sight of those beautiful eyes. They seemed to hold so much compassion and pain in the one glance that she gave you it almost makes you physically pained to think of it.

Cold. Cold and cool and protective as ice. She was separate and alone and the center of everything all at the same time. Behind that layer that she willingly showed to the world were layers upon layers of walls. Walls that you could never, even in your wildest dreams, hope to breach.

"Get to know her," Peyton had told you. "She's not so cold once you talk to her."

She was right. She was fire, consuming you with every movement, every word, every half concealed glance directed at you through a layer of thin veiled lust and desire and want. She was burning you up with every touch and the scalded scars of her fingers on your skin never faded. They were engraved for eternity in your mind and you wouldn't have it any other way.

She was your jailor. She was your freedom. She was everything that was right and wrong and good and bad all wrapped up in the most beautiful package you have ever seen and sent to you to guide you to the light. Or to bring you down with her.

Either way it didn't matter to you. You couldn't breathe when she was in the room. You couldn't play basketball when you knew she was watching. It took you what felt like a lifetime to master the art of acting normal around her again. To her, you suppose it came naturally. And yet everything came naturally to her.

Everything worked out for her in a way you never really understood. You had even seen the trap he had set up for you and almost willingly; you had fallen into it anyway.

She was your air. No matter how much you wanted to get out, to be free of everything to do with her, you couldn't. You needed her. Every breath was hers. Every smile was meant for her. You couldn't control it. You couldn't change it. You knew it. And so did she. So it continued, weaving oh so extravagant tangles and turns through your life like the memory of both sets of your limbs, arms, hands, overlapping, interlacing, touching, holding, pushing away, pulling back, until even you couldn't tell where you ended and she began.

And in all truth you didn't want to. You felt no real desire to untangle yourself from her. She could have been as close to you as she could get and it was never close enough.

All the memory of her did was leave you with an aching need for more. More of everything. You gave her all that you could give and in return she granted you the small things you learned to never take for granted. The lightest brush of the fingers in public that sent a rush of burning heat through your body all the same. A small smile directed vaguely in your direction that could topple all resistance you might have ever considered attempting against her. They were your pleasure and your poison. They were the drug you couldn't give up. They seeped into your blood and slid their way to your heart where they accomplished complete dominance over any free will you might have ever had. You were hers.

And she could never be yours.


	3. Chapter 3

**-The whole entire time I was writing this I listened to this song over and over again. Seriously, repeatedly the whole time. "Insa" by…well I don't know who it was by but I listened to the JaeJoong version. Seriously, listen to this song while you're reading the last section. It makes a lot of difference. And yes I know it's not in English.**

It's the day of graduation and you realize that something is wrong. Well, you always knew there was something wrong but now you become aware of a glowing disturbance you hadn't seen before.

Life is different now. Not so different from it was before in all reality, but that night with Brooke in the rain you had recognized when everything shifted, moving slightly to the left and away from what you had truly desired. The movement distracted you just enough that one person is able to notice the difference. Not immediately—of course not. You're not nearly as transparent as some would like to paint you. They like to say they understand you. They say they're your friends and family, which they are, but when they say they know what you're thinking, you're forced to wonder. Do they know you go so much deeper then they had ever imagined? Do they know that, even though you have all been friends for such a long time they'd still be surprised by the thoughts that you find unwillingly running through your mind? But then again, would Haley really be surprised? You should have known she would notice something was off. You should have prepared for it.

She had confronted you about it after a while. Asking questions that you brushed off with a small laugh and a hug. Haley didn't really understand though. You couldn't explain everything that's going on even if you wanted to. You can't explain the subtle slide of your heart in a sloping direction away from your girlfriend and towards your ex. You can't explain the new-found knowledge that you attained with a quiet amount of distress. You can't explain the desperate clinging to Peyton because you are frantic for something you know you can have even if it's not what you want. You can't explain how you need Peyton because you can't have Brooke. Because you can't touch her or hold her or have her and yet you can't help but hope that by staying with Peyton it will somehow make you worthy of Brooke. You can't explain any of this because it would be the end. You know this with a sad sort of finality. This knowledge in the hands of anyone else would end everything that made sense in the world, destroy the family your group of friends has formed. Tear your world apart.

As you lay in bed, listening to the gentle breathing of Peyton beside you, you had vowed to keep it a secret. It was the only way you could think of to protect the girl lying next to you—and if it meant hurting yourself you were willing to take the pain. Because in so many ways you felt like you deserved it. Every time Brooke looked at you with those wide soulful hazel green eyes it made you want to die. It took away everything that mattered in your world and made it into nothing. Or more accurately, it took everything that mattered in your world and melted it down, twisting it, shaping it, molding it, until it fit the perfect form of your girlfriends best friend. Your everything. So you stayed. You took the pain that you knew you deserved in order to protect what you had. You promised to cut out that little part of yourself that made you care; even though it might leave you bleeding and broken you were determined to force all thoughts of Brooke out of your mind and focus on Peyton. It never worked. But you kept at it all the same. Because you weren't allowed to be in love. Not with _her_. Not now. Not ever.

So lying in the gracious cover of the early morning hours, you gave yourself permission to release those few silent tears. You allowed yourself to mourn the love that would never exist. When you felt yourself starting to loose control, near that edge you so desperately feared falling over, you cut yourself off. You blocked the tears and closed off the knowledge that you weren't with her—the knowledge that hurt you more intently then anything you've ever known before. A hurt that you realized will have the rest of your life to tear you down completely.

In a few hours the sun rose. You returned to what they all know of you. Brushing a quick passionless kiss against Peyton's brow before stepping into the shower. You don't mention the feelings that are slowly breaking you down. You try not to wonder what it would be like to kiss her again, to hold her and love her. You don't look into her eyes.

And you continue pretending this isn't killing you.

You had thought nobody noticed. You thought in the constant motion and drama of Tree Hill maybe, just maybe nobody would see. Maybe it wasn't as obvious as you thought it was. Maybe you only thought people could see because the only times you made eye contact with Brooke she would give you a warning glance before looking quickly away. And maybe it was because even in those few seconds you had together you could see, clearly, heartbreakingly, that she still loves you.

But then again maybe Haley noticed something because she caught you sitting silently at the Rivercourt for the sixth time in a row. The first few times you brushed it off as having lots to think about. With college and your mom's baby and all. But then Haley told you, her eyes searching and curious, that she knows you're a really thoughtful guy, but this is far more then anyone could possibly think while staying healthy, especially for someone your age. The sixth time she walked in on you though, she stopped asking questions. She sat and watched you watch nothing. For at least twenty minutes you sat there with her—trying to disguise the evolution of your thoughts about Brooke. It started out as affection as always, memories of the times you had with her then turned to possibility. From there it went to insecurity, uncertainty, and then it quickly downslides into desperation and despair so absolute that Haley let out a small gasp that caused you to turn and look at her.

You quickly smiled, trying with all your might to hide all the thoughts running through your mind. For a moment Haley seemed to buy it and you wondered if you were really that much of a better actor then they had ever given you credit for and you started to apologize for your daydreaming when she interrupted you.

"Just drop the act Lucas," she had snapped, pushing her hair out of her face. You couldn't pretend that the brief flash of panic that darted across your face was anything other then that and Haley knew it.

"Something's wrong," Haley said, looking deeper into your eyes. You turned away from her and looked out at the river again, silent. "I've been watching you for a while Luke," she continued. "Do you really think I didn't notice that wistful longing that takes over you when you think nobodies watching? You never even try to speak up when we're with the entire group unless you're singled out or specifically targeted."

You almost winced but managed to hold it back. Would Haley understand? Would she understand the constant torture and pain and agony of being away from Brooke like this?

"For a while I really couldn't figure it out," Haley laughed bitterly, turning away from you to look out across the river. "You're far too subtle, really. Too good at keeping to yourself. I narrowed it down to a few things, couldn't stop thinking about what's wrong with you—you know? It wouldn't leave me alone…"

Like Brooke would never leave you alone. She was always there—a shadow, flitting around on the side edges of your vision, constant, shimmering, always out of reach. You had found a strange euphoria at discovering you were in love with Brooke. You had finally made your decision about who you truly loved and this decision was forever. It wasn't the ideal situation, but falling in love rarely is. It's always a bit impulsive, intrusive. Selfish. But you were determined not to be selfish. You would protect the people around you.

"I wasn't really sure when it happened," Haley continued, her soft voice never wavering. "When I realized that your feelings for Peyton had shifted."

You remain motionless. A stone. You can't move. You can't talk. You can't feel.

"At first I thought it was just the stress. We've all been really busy lately, and we all had our own little breakdowns ages ago so I thought maybe this was just a phase."

Your internal Lucas nodded his head. You had so wanted it to be the stress. You had wanted so desperately for it to be a phase.

"But that's not it," you wished Haley would stop talking. Wished she would leave you alone. "You fell in love with someone else." _Shut up shut up shut up. _"At first I didn't know who it was. I mean, you'd think, considering the amount of time we spend together, you'd slip up, just once. But you didn't. So I started watching you closer. Three days later I started wondering how nobody else had noticed. You know you're pretty obvious if a person watches for the right things. It wasn't in your eyes or stolen glances. Wasn't in anything you said, not in any drastic changes of mood, or even slight ones. In fact, it wasn't in anything you did at all. It was in what you didn't do." You close your eyes. "Do you realize you don't initiate any kind of contact anymore? You don't tease her or stand still long enough to be next to her, in fact, you don't really touch Brooke at all anymore." Your eyes clenched shut tighter.

"Don't worry," Haley said, still not looking at you. "I haven't told anyone."

You sighed and buried your head in your hands. Was it possible to cheat emotionally one someone? It was a sin. It was wrong and immoral and nothing had ever felt more right. You hated her for making you feel like this. You despised her for digging those beautifully slender fingers into your heart and refusing to let go. You wanted nothing more then to be free of her; you wanted to be able to ignore those angelical eyes and that soft tender mouth. You wanted to resist the temptation with everything you had in you. You told yourself repeatedly that it was nothing. That you would stop. That what you were feeling wasn't real. But that was a lie. No matter how many times you told yourself this was going to end, this emotional torture, every time she looked at you with those wide, captivating eyes, you would feel yourself give in.

And no matter how much you meant it, no matter how determined you were to stop thinking about her; she always had you coming back for more.

You could never figure out _exactly_ what it was about her that you couldn't let go of, because it seemed like it was everything. It was the way she would smile and melt back into your arms when you hugged her from behind. It was the way she laughed and sang and always tried not to cry in public even when she felt like breaking down. It was the way she held your hand when _you_ felt like breaking down. It was the way she nodded solemnly every time you said something to her and yet even then you would want to smile because it was like the two of you were caught in some inside joke that only the two of you understood. It was the way she claimed you and conquered you and let you go all the while knowing that you'd be back.

Like a yo-yo she had pushed you away and pulled you back in sync with the ongoing cycle of you leaving her and returning again. Over and over until all you wanted was to lie in her arms and rest there forever without having to ever worry about leaving her again.

Because every time you walked past her you felt the hooks she had attached so diligently to your heart tug and pull until it made you physically sick to be away from her.

People always got it wrong. They always said she was the one who was devoted to you and you were the one who simply accepted her love. You weren't deserving of any devotion. It was she who was your salvation. She who was your savior. And when the pressure was too much and the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders it was your thoughts of her that lightened your load. It was the memory of her rubbing soothing circles in your back and talking to you calmly until you were once again reassured that you could handle it.

It was the memory of her soft touches under the cover of darkness that healed your wounds and it was her light burning kisses that scarred you all over again.

You should have stopped the endless torture. You really should have done it. Just walked away without looking back. But you couldn't. You weren't sure if you would ever be able to let her go.

Her smile was in your mind, her voice was in your ears, her touch was lighting a burning inferno of fire on your skin, and your heart was in her hands.

She never offered to give it back, and even if she had, you weren't sure you would have taken it. Somehow it felt right.

"You love her, don't you?" Haley whispered, finally turning to face you. You looked down at her, a bitter smile touching the corners of your lips and she nodded sadly. "I'm sorry," she offered, shrugging slightly. "If it helps she loves you too…"

"It doesn't," you finally said, looking down at your hands. "It makes it worse." She nodded again, resting her head against your shoulder and sighing.

"I'm sorry."

Something's wrong. You stand in your dark blue graduation outfit and turn to scan the crowd. Haley and Nathan, laughing, making their way towards their seats. Brooke and Mouth, grinning, adjusting hats and joking around. You turn a little to the right and you see her. Peyton.

She turns and catches your eye and you wait expectantly for the small lift in the corners of her lips or a suggestive wink that you can grin back at—but her face remains smooth and impassive and she turns away without a word. The shock roots you motionless to the spot but then you realize—with the force of a rocket hitting you at full blast what is really happening. She knows. You don't know how she figured it out, or who told her, but the truth is there and undeniable and you can't ignore it. She knows.

You try to make your way through the crowd towards her but Peyton is walking away already and the crowd is thick. By the time you reach where she was everyone is filling into their seats and you are being called by Nathan. You see Peyton sitting silently, staring straight ahead but you make your way to your brother instead. Throughout the whole entire ceremony you can't think of anything but the look on her face. How could she know? Haley wouldn't have told her, and Brooke clearly didn't, so she must have figured it out on her own. You groan and try to listen as Haley gives her speech. Every else goes smoothly as the ceremony progresses and when it's finally over and you have your diploma you barely recognize the significance of the moment.

Brooke hugs you gently before the pictures are taken. She lingers in your arms for a fraction of a second longer then she should but you pretend not to notice. The mere smell of her hair almost distracts you from the impending doom that Peyton is about to bring down on everyone's heads and with her in your arms it almost all disappears. But then Brooke pulls away and her eyes are shiny and glistening with tears and Haley pulls her in for a hug. You watch Brookes face as she wraps her arms around her friend and clenches her eyes shut tight. She opens them and blinks her tears away, looking up at you through her dark heavy lashes.

She hesitates then seems to decide something. She opens her mouth, that beautiful mouth and whispers, "I love you." You can't hear it but you can read the words on her lips and you know they're meant for you. You almost smile but a hand reaches out and rests gently on your arm and you turn to face your girlfriend.

"We need to talk."

You make your excuses to your friends and the two of you head off in Peyton's car. You wonder if this is the last time you'll ever get to ride in it. It seems like a small thing but somehow it amounts to so much more. When you finally get to the Rivercourt Peyton gets out of the car and snaps at you.

"Get out."

You follow her lead and walk over to her, tucking her hair gently behind her ears and trying desperately to think of something, anything to say.

"What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong_?" Oops. Wrong question. "Do you really want me to tell you what's wrong Lucas Scott?!" She pushes your hands away from her face and pushes you backwards with all the force she can muster. You stumble away from her and straighten up, silently waiting. "I'll tell you what's wrong!" Her eyes shimmer in tears but she refuses to let them fall. Pretty little Peyton. She's like Brooke in so many ways that you wonder if growing up they started getting their habits and mannerisms from each other until they shared almost everything. "I can't believe you would do this!" You don't ask for an explanation and it seems to confirm Peyton's thoughts. "You stupid man whore! You cheated on me!"

This time you protest because you can't stand to think of Peyton imagining that Brooke would ever do anything like that to her. "No, Peyton, I didn't cheat on you—"

"You're in love with her!" She screams it and you freeze in the middle of your sentence. Everything you had thought of saying flies out the window and you can't think of a word. You can't deny it. You don't want to. You love her and a large part of you wants the world to know it. But not now. Not like this. Peyton chokes on her words and tears start to rise up in her eyes. "Why?" she whispers, shaking her head. You stay motionless and she watches you for a moment with those large doe eyes. "I loved you Lucas. I _love_ you. Why isn't that enough?"

"Peyton, it's not you, okay? I'm so sorry I just—"

"Don't," the tears start spilling over and a little part of you breaks a little more at the sight. "Please—" Peyton turns away and you move forward to comfort her but she holds a hand out and keeps you away. When she turns back to you she seems firmer. More in control. "This is done. This stupid…façade. Whatever this was to you, I'm done. I am not going to put myself through this anymore. I can't—"

"Peyton I'm so sorry," You say, trying to get her to understand what you feel. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"But it did," Peyton says, looking resigned to the fact. She smiles slightly and reaches out to touch your jaw. "I love you Lucas. I'm sorry. I knew you didn't love me. I knew it was Brooke but I just—" she pauses and stares at you a moment longer like she's trying to engrave your face in her memory. "I just thought maybe there was a chance you would really come back to me."

"I wish—" you stop for a second and take a deep breath and then go on. "I wish it was you. I wish I was in love with you."

"But you're not," Peyton says, dropping her hand from your face.

"I'm sorry," you whisper again. Then Peyton reaches up and presses the lightest of kisses between your eyes, turns away, and leaves. You stand still for a moment longer, letting everything sink in, then you start to walk. You walk until your feet are sore and aching and you're finally home. You open the door and walk straight up to your room. You ignore everything around you and step into the bathroom, peeling off your clothes until you're standing, shivering, in front of the shower.

You turn the water on as hot as it can go and yet when you step under the waterfall of burning fire it still doesn't amount to the pain in your heart. You just want to be left alone. You can't feel the burning water pounding down on you and although you know that should be a relief, you find yourself yearning for the pain. Anything to distract your thoughts from _her_.

She won't leave you alone. No matter where you go or what you say she is always in your mind. You remember her face from earlier that day. You clench your eyes shut and yet you can feel them burn into you all the same. You feel her arms around you, embracing you, enclosing you, consuming you whole. Pale white and smooth, making you shiver at the thought.

You let the water run down into your eyes until they're red and watery and the tears start falling down. They mix with the water, salty and fresh, tumbling down your face until they land in the puddle at your feet.

You grab the soap and start to scrub. You scrub as hard as you can until your skin is red and raw and you can finally feel the water washing over you. It stings your tender skin but you continue to scrub—hoping that maybe if you do it long enough you can wash her right off you. Scrub away all the thoughts and dreams and wishes that you had ever hid inside your heart for her. Maybe if you go deep enough you can scrub her right out of your heart. It's not right. It's not fair. She's leaving tomorrow. She's going early for the fashion program in California and you don't even know if you'll get a chance to see her. You don't know if you want to see her. You can't do this to her. You can't ask her to stay for you. She deserves so much more. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve any of this.

When you step out of the shower half an hour later your skin is pink and scrubbed raw and it hurts to put your clothes back on but you pull on a pair of cargo shorts and a grey shirt and towel your hair dry.

A weight is lifted. Peyton knows. Peyton forgave you. You're free. No—you're not free. You're trapped in this and you don't know how to get out. You don't know what to do. _Think Lucas, think_, you urge yourself, trying to figure out some way to get to Brooke. To explain it to her and have her still love you. If she learns that Peyton broke up with you because of her you know she'll never forgive herself. That's just Brooke. She always blames herself for the things she can never control.

You're about to crumble down on your bed when you hear a knock on your door. You look up and immediately you can tell it's her. Her shadow is there and the form through the light cloth covering the window is instantly recognizable as hers. You've seen that shadow standing there so many times and yet somehow this time is different. You wait a moment, unsure of what you're going to do. What's about to happen. When you finally reach forward and open the door her back is facing it and she freezes in the act of walking away. You know at once that you can't let her walk away again.

"Brooke." She turns to look at you and you can tell she's been crying. Her mascara is smudged and running and her nose is slightly red. Your lips tilt up at the side a little at the sight and your eyes squint against the light.

"Hey Luke," she laughs and your smile widens at the sound. It's been so long since she's smiled at you that it feels like it did the very first time. "I just um…" she pauses and her eyes shift around the room slowly looking anywhere but at you. "I guess I just wanted to say goodbye."

The words stab you all over but your smile only falters for a second. "She told you."

Brooke looks up at you and all pretense leaves. "I'm so sorry Lucas. I didn't mean to ruin your relationship with Peyton like that—I can't believe—I didn't tell her, I swear, I didn't say anything, I don't know how she figured it out—"

"Brooke," you laugh and step forward, grabbing her shoulders gently in your hands and looking down at her. "Shh, it's okay, I'm alright, I know it's not your fault."

"I'm sorry Lucas," she whispers it and you place one hand on either side of her face forcing her to look up at you. She doesn't blink and neither of you look away. You keep your eyes open and on hers as you lean down and press a small kiss on her lips. You pull away and she watches you, her hands hang loosely by her sides and you wonder if you shouldn't be doing this. You're about to pull away from her when she closes her eyes and reaching up on her toes, kisses you again. She layers them lightly all over your face, forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, eyelids, she kisses every tear that slips out from under your closed lids and finally rests her cheek up against your own. You feel her tears sliding down her face and mixing with your own.

You can't think as you lift her up and carry her into your room. You place her on the bed and lie down next to her, your body spooning hers, your arm across her waist, and her head below your chin. You cry silently and reach up a hand to her face. You wipe her tears away with your thumb and try to make soothing noises in her ear but all that comes out are little gasping sobs. Brooke turns in your arms and faces you, biting her lip to try and control her emotions. She places one soft kiss on the corner of your lips then looks up at you. You understand instantly what she is doing and pull your shirt off over your head without a word. She runs her hands over your chest and the scalded skin seems to heal at her touch. She places one small palm over your heart and looks down at it. She leans over kisses the little scar that's there from the surgery. You draw her head back up towards yours rest your forehead against hers.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice thick with tears.

"I love you too," she sighs.

When you wake up later the sky is dark and the moonlight is shining in through the window in small silver patches. There is a vacancy next to you. A slight indentation in the sheets that betrays the absence of the love of your life. You inhale sharply and reach out to touch the wrinkles in the sheets wondering if she is really gone.

You toss the covers to the side and rise to your feet, pulling a pair of pajama pants on as you go. You see that the door is open just the slightest bit and make your way towards it slowly. When you open it you are met with the image of her sitting on your steps staring up at the star lit sky etched in light all the angles and curves of her body and face outlined in silver ink.

"Brooke?" You whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and keep warm.

"Yeah…" Brooke murmurs, still staring up at the sky with a far away look on her face.

You move to sit next to her on the steps. She found one of your old t-shirts and is wearing it but you can still see her shivering from the cold so you wrap your arms around her and pull her closer.

"Come back to bed," you whisper, blinking up at the moonlit sky. Brooke's eyes flicker towards yours then she looks back out at the street. "Brooke…please…? I can't sleep without you."

She turns to look at you and her eyes are clear and sad and this time she doesn't look away.

"You're leaving tomorrow," you continue, trying with all your might not to cry again. "Just stay with me tonight, okay?" You take a deep breath and Brooke smiles sadly. "Brooke…" you swallow hard and she tilts her head to the side, resting her head against your shoulder.

"Okay…" she whispers, her voice so soft you can barely hear it. "I'll stay with you."

You bring her tighter into your arms and turn your head to place a kiss on her forehead. Her arms drop from their place wrapped around her legs and you flinch at the abrupt movement. She raises them and places them instead around your waist.

"I need you, Lucas…" she closes her eyes and moves forward until you are sheltering her body with your own, and her own legs entangle with yours. "I woke up…and I realized that I'll be waking up alone for a while and…I just thought maybe it would be better for you if I left…" you fight back the strong desire to cry. "I couldn't do it though. I couldn't leave…"

"So don't," you whisper, "Don't leave just yet. Stay with me tonight and I won't leave you okay? I'll do whatever it takes…" your eyes close, tears finally seeping through the thick coal black fringed lashes.

"…Okay," she choked out. "But let's just stay like this a little, okay?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "That's okay."

_A single smile_

_The last bow_

It's early in the morning. How early, you don't know. The light of the sunrise creeps slowly through the large windows of the airport like blood spilling slowly into water, streaking the air crimson. The early morning clouds are spiked gold and black and yet you don't notice it at all.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?"

"It's okay, I already said goodbye to them all."

"And you'll call me as soon as you get there, right?"

"I promise."

You tug Brooke closer, inhaling the scent of her hair and memorizing the feel of her head resting against your neck.

"You're gonna do great Brooke."

"You know—"Brookes eyes dip to a close and you try not to loose yourself in the feeling of her presence. "There will never be anyone else…" she inches closer and leans against you. "I won't even look for someone…just so you know…I'll always love you…"

You attempt a smile. "It's okay Brooke, if you find someone…"

"No," she looks up at you and her eyes burn into you. "I don't want anyone else."

"I know…" You wish she wouldn't do this. You're not sure if you can let her get on that plane if she keeps looking at you like that.

_You're taking your last bow_

"Flight 259, Charlotte to LA, now boarding," a clear voice rings through the gate area. "Passengers must have their boarding passes ready along with…"

"That's me," Brooke whispers, her voice breaking as she brings a hand to your chest and leans back to get a good look at you. You swallow hard and nod, standing motionless as she soaks you in for what feels like could be the last time. Your own eyes drink in everything about her, the slight indention of dimples in her unsmiling cheeks, the small bruising of her lips and the light shadows under her eyes cast by the long eyelashes that blink slowly up at you. She swallows back a wave of tears and nods once.

"Okay," she whispers.

"Do you um…" you lick your suddenly dry lips and close your eyes to take another deep breath. "Do you have everything you need?"

"No…" Brooke chokes out, her voice weak as she tugs hintingly at your shirt. You allow a small smile to break out on your face although it quickly disappears.

_Fly away_

_Fly away love_

"Brooke…" you breathe, lifting your hands to cradle her face. "Go…"

"I love you…" Brooke whispers, leaning into your touch. Then she lifts the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, grabs her suitcase with the other hand, and turns away. Your hands fall to your sides and you stand, watching as she walks slowly away from you. Her steps are little and hesitant and you've never felt so protective of her in your entire life.

"Brooke—" you whisper softly, your hands finding their way into your pockets where they bunch nervously as she spins quickly back to face you. The look on her face tears at you and everything else seems to melt away. Your lungs seem to constrict in your throat and your eyes never leave Brooke's face.

_Go_, you urge her mentally. _I'm sorry. Don't make this harder…please…go._

Then Brooke drops her bags, closes the gap between you and wraps her arms around your neck as she pulls you down for a kiss. Your fingers tangle in her chocolate brown hair and pull her closer—as close as you can possibly get and you know it isn't enough. Heat spreads through your body, burning you, consuming you, capturing you. You feel a desperate need to lock Brooke away and never let her leave you again but then she pulls away from you and buries her face in your neck.

Your eyes open and you realize your tears are falling into her hair. Her body shakes and shudders and you wrap your arms tighter around her, refusing to let her go.

When she finally pulls back to look into your eyes an endless stream of promises to never forget—to come back, pass between the two of you and her face blurrs with your tears.

"I told you not to look back…" you whisper, brushing a hand lightly against her cheek.

"I'll always look back. When I see someone who looks like you, or sounds like you…laughs like you…or sings like you…I'll always look back…" Her voice trembles and she leans her head back to try and stem the flow of tears. "Just in case…"

"I love you," you whisper as the last call for Brooke's flight rings through the airport.

Her fingers press against your face. Your lips. Then she smiles. Soft. Desperate. Loving. And the tears shake your vision so badly that you can't really see the smile anymore as she picks up her bags and walks backwards a few steps.

"I'll always love you Lucas," she says softly, holding a hand out towards your heart. You brush your tears away although new ones rise to replace them. "I've always loved you Lucas. I'll never stop." Her fingers rise to touch the spot right above her own heart. "I'll never really leave you."

Then she turns and this time she doenst look back. She walks as quickly as she can up to a flight attendant who checks her passport and identification then dissapears through the tunnel.

A sudden wave of loneliness washes over you and you blink and when you open your eyes she's gone.

You repeat her words in your head as if saying them enough will make her come back.

_I'll always love you. _

Tears slide endlessly down your face like a curtain and although you try to stop them you cant. 

_The one true love of my life_

_Goodbye_

It was wrong and you knew it but then again, how could it be all that wrong when it felt so right? It was as if the two of you were puzzle pieces that matched perfectly together and when you stepped back to view the picture you had made you discovered it was a masterpiece. It was perfection. _She_ was perfection.

And you could lie to yourself and tell yourself it would be best for both of you if you ended it, but deep down you knew that would never matter.

You could never stay away from her. She was the poison and the antidote. She was the cancer and the cure. She was everything. She was your wings.

She was your downfall.

_Fly away_

_Fly away love_


End file.
